Ch.140Origin (4)

The artisans walked.

Though everything around them shook violently, collapsed, and wild animals ran amok in complete chaos, there was no hesitation or obstacle in their advance.

This was thanks to the divinity circulating through their bodies.

The power to twist fate and reshape the world at will. Using this power, they were guiding destiny.

To where they were meant to be.

To where the fate they had once feared and avoided awaited them.

To the colossus—the final creation of the being who was once the god of all artisans.

For ordinary humans, that thing would be a calamity to be avoided at all costs.

Even if it appeared in modern times, it would be something that twisted the laws of physics, moving perfectly without fuel, something that would continue functioning even after being hit by nuclear weapons.

Truly something beyond the power of individuals or nations to handle.

To confront it would require either an equally enormous power or a civilization advanced enough to freely wield forces that defied the laws of physics.

Such things could only be found by searching other universes.

So normally, merely approaching it would result in being swept away by shock waves, trampled by fleeing wild animals, or falling to death in the splitting earth.

But these ones were different. Because they were fragments of that colossus, they could approach it simply by using the divinity flowing through their bodies as a guide.

The shock waves conveniently passed by without touching them, and wild animals avoided them.

The splitting earth did not interfere with their path, only overturning innocent ground and swallowing trees.

Their advance was truly unimpeded.

This was why Luvellin couldn’t easily catch up with them despite their unremarkable mobility.

All manner of calamities were being poured upon Luvellin instead.

Leaping up, jumping over wild animals, and avoiding falling into splitting earth by using anti-magic power to step on empty air.

Using so much anti-magic power was depleting his reserves, but Luvellin had no time to worry about such things.

His intuition told him that letting them go would lead to regret and great disaster later.

It was intuition accompanied by unusually precise instructions. The thought that it might not be intuition didn’t even cross his mind.

There was no time for that.

They were now within reach.

It was a chilling sight at a glance. While all manner of disasters avoided them, they continued walking without stopping.

Marching in perfect rhythm, making crisp sounds in unison—anyone unfamiliar with divinity would flee in terror at such a sight.

Of course, such a person wouldn’t have been able to come this far to begin with.

So only Luvellin was overwhelmed by the atmosphere, standing dazed until he collided with a flying bird.

The crumpling sensation of the bird. Luvellin saw flashing memorial-like text appear in his vision before rolling on the ground.

When he opened his eyes, he was in front of the golems.

“I recommend not blocking our way.”

“No, I wasn’t planning to…”

Luvellin barely managed to raise himself up when he staggered from a sudden shock wave.

It was unavoidable being near the colossus. Watching the staggering Luvellin, a golem spoke.

“If you utilize divinity, movement becomes easier. You need to grasp fate as it turns.”

“What? Wait, divinity?”

Luvellin was aware he possessed divinity but couldn’t consciously control it.

He didn’t even have the concept of “using” divinity. The golems noticed this and nodded.

“You seem to be aware of the divinity you possess. Use it to twist fate.”

Easier said than done—they didn’t explain how. But somehow Luvellin felt he might know the method.

Sure enough, what Luvellin had thought was mortality was actually divinity, so it made sense.

Luvellin spread what he thought of as mortality throughout his body—one of only two powers he possessed.

He was still staggering. Not enough? While wondering if it was a matter of power level, a golem approached and grabbed his shoulder.

Through this, he could feel the golem’s divinity, even its specific direction.

Luvellin imitated it. Luvellin, the man who was once Yoon Sejin, wasn’t stupid—copying from an example was easy enough for him.

As Luvellin regained his balance, the golem removed its hand.

“I suggest walking, as we have time before reaching our destination.”

There was no choice anyway, given the engraved fate. Luvellin nodded dazedly and walked.

Luvellin found himself walking among the golems who marched in perfect rhythm.

As he walked, he saw the gradually approaching colossus.

This was his first proper look at it.

And the colossus he saw was something that didn’t evoke any image of “victory.”

It was a massive golem, entirely bronze-colored.

But the bronze was barely visible due to the soil accumulated and deposited on it, making it look like a mountain and metal fused together.

Yet in the glimpses of its interior, one could see craftsmanship far beyond human capability.

It didn’t look like something mass-produced by machines.

Handcrafted, perhaps? It seemed impossible that something so enormous could be made by hand, yet the impression of handcrafting was strong.

It was that meticulous and precise… with a personal touch embedded in it.

As Luvellin was overwhelmed by the colossus, a golem suddenly spoke.

“We are artisans.”

Since they weren’t without souls, this was natural.

People tend to become talkative when they have someone to talk to.

“I am an herbalist, that one is a carpenter, and that one is a bowyer.”

“Not a guard?”

“Bowyers often work as archers at guard posts when they have no other work. They understand arrows and bows well, so they use them well.”

That made sense. Like how instrument makers need to understand instruments to some degree, and thus know how to play music—it seemed like a similar principle.

Was it historically accurate? He couldn’t tell. Luvellin’s knowledge wasn’t sufficient to recall such facts.

“That one is a mechanic, that one is a cook. And that one is a stonemason, and that one is…”

“What about a blacksmith?”

Even someone as oblivious as Luvellin would notice something strange by now. The absence of a blacksmith, who would be considered representative of artisans.

And he recalled that the golem he had fought earlier had revealed itself as the god of blacksmiths.

“That one is the blacksmith.”

The herbalist pointed. In the direction of the colossus. Luvellin’s expression hardened.

“Would you listen to our story?”

Luvellin didn’t answer. He had no intention of refusing to listen anyway.

“We are all artisans. Fragments once possessed by the god of artisans.”

God of artisans. A deity one would expect to exist. Luvellin’s gaze fixed on the colossus. They continued walking, getting closer to it.

“But before that, we were artisans living in an artisan village. We took commissions from the guild and ordinary people, and even the gods favored us and gave us work.”

Not far from here is a pantheon. As Luvellin looked at the herbalist, the bowyer next to him spoke.

“The god of artisans cherished us the most. We were commanded by the god of artisans to protect and nurture this village in the future.”

A god’s command. One that cannot be disobeyed, a command that twists perception to ensure absolute obedience. As Luvellin felt a sense of déjà vu, the carpenter spoke next.

“But a problem arose. The guild sent mercenaries. Some of us died, and all those we once called family were killed.”

Luvellin’s expression hardened. As fleeing wild animals changed direction upon seeing the golems and Luvellin, a chilling silence fell.

“We desired revenge. All of us desperately wanted revenge. We desired it too strongly and realized it too desperately.”

This was a familiar story. The attributes of gods change according to the desires and needs of those who serve them.

Sure enough.

“The god of artisans became the god of vengeance. Our revenge came from a willingness to burn blood, sorrow, and our future. ■■■■ became both the god of artisans and the god of vengeance.”

The name was still inaudible. Even if he could understand its meaning.

It was a strange sensation. But Luvellin didn’t question or ask about it. Partly because he knew it would be meaningless, but also because it wasn’t the right atmosphere for questions.

The colossus was now drawing near.

“I regret it.”

One golem said.

“I regret it.”

Another golem said.

Like spreading wildfire, all the walking golems expressed their regret.

“We should have remained artisans. We should have stayed as artisans. Because we gave up being artisans, our god was abandoned and had to remain in this land.”

“…Abandoned?”

“The caretaker of the pantheon is both a messenger of the gods and their blade. Our god would have considered it betrayal.”

These were words Luvellin couldn’t ignore. In his dazed gaze, countless golems turned to look at him.

“But what comes next is what we should have done and what we haven’t done until now. It’s a knot we must tie with our own hands, a work waiting for the final touch.”

“Wait, if I help…”

“You will die.”

Luvellin hesitated. Looking at his trembling gray eyes, the golems gave him warm gazes.

Despite having mechanical crystal eyes devoid of emotion.

Somehow they felt warm. Luvellin, feeling an inexplicable emotion welling up, couldn’t continue speaking.

“Please take care of Huey. He’s an affectionate creature who follows people well. Despite not being human, he loved us.”

The dog followed the golems. Because it was a dog that followed people well, and because the golems were no different from people.

When Luvellin couldn’t find words and stopped, the golems walked on.

With each step the colossus took, shock waves spread and the world shook as if collapsing.

Yet strangely, the golems neither fell nor got caught in the chaos. Rather, as if they had been waiting, when the colossus’s body tilted to stamp its foot, the golems burrowed into the holes carved into the colossus’s body.

The golems walked. They kept walking. Through the colossus’s long corridor, they walked without rest toward the center.

To where the golem with the severed head, the blacksmith golem and avatar of the god, had been.

Walking slowly but steadily, the golems eventually reached the center of the colossus.

Every single one of them.

In the massive cavity, they stopped. What they had to do was predetermined. Without exchanging glances, looking around, or steeling their resolve, they moved immediately.

Their hands moved to scoop up soil. Holding the scooped soil in their hands, they each took out different tools.

The tools they brought out were imbued with divinity.

Truly, no divinity is inexhaustible. At least not for the god of artisans and vengeance.

An abandoned god, a fallen god, cannot afford such luxury.

There was only one way to kill this colossus. The golems each demonstrated their craft.

The herbalist kneaded soil in his hands, and herbs appeared.

The carpenter carved the soil into wooden statues, the mechanic made parts, the stonemason made stone statues from soil, and the bowyer crafted wooden bows from soil.

Among them, the most prominent were the works of the carpenter and stonemason. They made statues of a dog.

The dog that had restored their humanity.

Everything shook. Rocks and soil fell with thuds from the cavity. One golem caught in the chaos lost its right arm but didn’t stop or mourn the loss.

Because there was something they had to do.

They continued to create. As artisans should.

They created, and created more.

Until they turned to ash, collapsed, and crumbled.

The divinity diminished. It gradually revealed its bottom, unable to withstand the consumption.

But was it in vain? The golems didn’t think so.

They simply did what they had to do.

Their only remaining regret was one thing.

They recalled the dog that had whimpered in pain from injuries and hunger.

It was a palm-sized dog. Taking it in had been a whim.

In days when they merely maintained the village meaninglessly according to the god’s command.

One of them remembered that there used to be dogs in the village long ago.

So they treated and took in the injured, hungry dog.

They let it roam freely around the village, took it for walks, and went hunting to feed it.

The dog liked people. It welcomed and loved even them, who had become golems, as if they were people.

Even though their souls had been split and stored identically, the dog distinguished their differences and showed different reactions to each.

It was proof that they were still human. That’s why the golems cherished the dog, even knowing its lifespan wouldn’t be as long as theirs.

Accepting the inevitable farewell, they each cherished and cared for the dog in their own way.

The golems, who had been merely maintaining the village and performing meaningless repetitive tasks, thus regained their humanity.

So all of this had meaning.

The created objects piled up on the floor. One by one, the golems collapsed. Because they had used up their divinity to the very last drop.

Knowing that the last thing to use was the divinity maintaining their own bodies, they used it without hesitation.

Eventually, only the herbalist remained. The golem who had named the dog.

The herbalist stood dazed, holding the last pile of soil in his hand.

In truth, he felt regret.

Perhaps a little sadness too.

Thinking about how the dog would grieve and miss them made his chest ache, and thinking about how it would long for them made his hands seem unable to move.

So he hesitated, but.

The herbalist gathered the last of his divinity without hesitation.

As long as the colossus lived, it would destroy and kill everything. And “Huey, the dog who loves people” would be among its targets.

So the herbalist hesitated no more. He only wished.

That Huey could spend his remaining time happily and close his eyes peacefully.

That he could take his last breath among people he truly loved.

What the golem saw as he crafted the final herb was the dog snuggling into his lap on a cold night.

The fur rustling against steel hands, the brown eyes wide open reflecting the golem’s face.

The tail that wagged incessantly, scattering fur everywhere.

The golem smiled one last time.

Crack…

The divinity was depleted.

The divinity that formed the colossus drained away. Like the countless objects piled on the floor, the colossus collapsed.

Cracks spread. Cracks extending in all directions like lightning.

The golems who had fallen or collapsed one by one sank, and the colossus sagged from its center.

It shattered. Far away, as the last god mourned them.

The once towering colossus completely collapsed.

Only then could Luvellin speak.

That the vengeance was over.

That they had returned to their roots.

Hearing what sounded like a dog howling in the distance, Luvellin closed his mouth, feeling an inexplicable sadness.